Take it in Stride
by tha-wanderer
Summary: Set in Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone. Angelina comforts Hermione during the Halloween feast. One-shot.


a/n: Hi! First _Harry Potter_ story, hope you like it! I just _had_ to do this, I'm afraid. In my headcanon, post-epilogue Angelina and Hermione are best girlfriends. And that idea sort of birthed this fic.

I don't own _Harry Potter. _

"Take it in Stride"

When, on her way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feat, Angelina Johnson overhears Parvati Patil tell her friend Lavender Brown that little Hermione Granger is alone crying in the girls' bathroom, she shares a worried glance with George.

The two older students have been keeping an eye on the first-year; Angelina, because she generally likes to look out for the younger Gryffindor girls, and George because he has seen the firstie's genius and would like to one day introduce her to the art of pranks.

Both have been worried, however, because it seemed—so far, anyway—that no one in Hermione's year cared for her. And now, in the wake of what Parvati has said, they are especially worried.

"I'll go check on her," says Angelina curtly to George. She makes an abrupt U-turn in the hall, nearly bumping into a few students.

But they were Slytherin, so it's okay.

…

Angelina comes across a chamber and hears the echo of crying. Surely enough, it's the girls' lavatory. She slowly enters.

"Hermione? Hermione?"

She hears a sniffle, then, "Go _away!_"

Angelina walks in front of the stall she believes Hermione is hiding in, then responds: "Oy, Granger. It's Angelina. You're not going to get rid of me easily." She gets on her knees and her voice softens. "What did they say to you?"

Hermione hesitantly cracks the door open. "It's silly, really, for me to be crying like this," she trails off. Angelina is looking at her intently. "I—I, I was trying to help Ron Weasley in Charms. I critiqued his pronunciation of 'Wingardium Leviosa,' and I suppose I was a bit bossy…Later, I overheard him telling Harry Potter that it was no wonder I don't have any friends, because I'm a nightmare." She sniffs. "And I've just been having a _horrid_ week, and what he said was true and—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," interjects Angelina. "_I'm _your friend, aren't I? And you wouldn't know it and they wouldn't readily admit it just yet, but the twins like you well enough. You're _not_ a nightmare, Hermione. Ron Weasley's a bit of a git, is all. When you deal with people like him, you've just got to take it in stride." She pauses, looks once more at the young girl. "Alright, then? Wanna walk with me to the feast?"

Hermione shakes her head. "I'll just stay here for a few minutes, clear my head, clean up a bit. But, thank you."

Angelina smiles sadly, "Yeah, no problem. Think about what I said." She slowly walks to the door and looks back, her dark brown eyes wide and questioning. "Are you sure?"

Hermione is in front of one of the basins. "I'll be fine. I'll be down soon."

"O-okay," Angelina responds hesitantly. With trepidation she exits the washroom and makes her way to the Halloween feast.

She takes her seat between Fred and George, and absently laughs at their jokes as her mind lingers fretfully on Hermione.

Something tells her that she should've stayed with her and brought her up to the feast.

…

"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."

Yup, probably should've stayed.

…

"Angelina, would you—"

"Quit romping about like a lunatic!"

"Oy, George, Fred, don't be such gits! Just calm down a bit, Ange."

The twins and Lee obviously don't understand her distress. How could they sit contently in front of the fire—surreptitiously observing the test subjects for their new Puking Pastilles, of course—completely and utterly plagued not by the fact that little Hermione could be having an fatal encounter with the bloody troll _this very moment_?

Damn them.

And damn their brother, Perfect Prefect Percy Weasley, for not letting her out of the tower to get Hermione!

And damn their _other _brother, Idiotic Sodding Ronald Weasley for making her so distraught in the first place!

_Weasleys_.

Frustrated and worried, Angelina finally collapses to sit on the rug directly in front of the fireplace, glaring at the flames. Every time she thinks she hears someone come through the portrait she straightens, only to slump once more.

The minutes drag on like lazy days and finally, _finally, _Hermione and McGonagall and Harry and _Ron _are entering the common room and her feet are moving of their own accord when she descends upon the four, shouting questions and accusations.

"Miss Johnson, Miss Johnson!" cries McGonagall. "Do calm down. As you can see, Miss Granger is fine and so are Potter and Weasley." Angelina's expression changes at the end of McGonagall's last exasperated statement, reflecting her sentiment that _she could bloody well care more about Potter and _Weasley _right now_. Hermione appears highly amused, and McGonagall bites back a small smile at the tall young woman's countenance. She goes on to tell her that Harry and Ron actually—sort of—_saved _Hermione from the troll when it had her cornered in the girls' lavatory.

"Huh," says Angelina. She regards her small, skinny Quidditch teammate with a small smile as McGonagall bids all good night and makes her exit. She kneels and pecks him on the cheek. "Nice going, Potter," she says pleasantly, amused as his green eyes widen and his cheeks turn red. Ron eyes her, almost as if he's _also _expecting a thank-you-peck, she muses. In response, she simply raises a single eyebrow and ushers Hermione to the futon where the twins and Lee sit.


End file.
